


think of me always

by safeandsound13sreputationera (safeandsound13)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Smut, minor Flarke, public sex kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22178329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/safeandsound13/pseuds/safeandsound13sreputationera
Summary: As he watches her push her way back into the theatre, everything clicks into place. That whole act she’s pulling with Finn is designed to get under his skin. She wants him to be jealous. It’s not her casual, regular Clarke defiance -- it’s a dare. Shewantshim to do something about it.Fucking brat.If anything, from 3 am chocolate-chip cookie ice cream cravings to a fourth orgasm, he’s always given her what she wants.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 334
Collections: The 100 Kinkmeme Round 2020





	think of me always

**Author's Note:**

> written for the kinkmeme round 2020, based on the prompt ***SPOILERS***: Clarke starts dating Finn and Bellamy gets incredibly possessive and jealous and ends up fingering then fucking her on a night out with all the friends

“Stop,” Clarke laughs melodically, swatting Finn away as he tries to pepper another kiss to her face. Bellamy’s fingers curl so tightly in his palms, his nails leave little crescent shape welts in his skin. Her eyes flick over to him. It’s so brief, he almost misses the challenge in her eyes as her teeth tug on her bottom lip. 

He’s angry. She is never like this. Not with Niylah, not with Cillian, not even with Lexa. Especially not with him. Always behind closed doors. Holding his hand under the table. Hurried kisses away from view. Glaring at him if he was being too affectionate in front of their friends.

And now here she is, playing house with the fourth Hanson brother in public while the memory of them calling it quits is still fresh in his mind. Exactly three days ago, he told her he didn’t want to do it anymore. That the sneaking around had gotten tiring. Not because he actually wanted to quit the whole secret friends with benefits thing they had going on, but because he had not-so-secretly hoped it would prompt her to confess she felt something more too. So he could hold her hand above the table, kiss her in front of his friends, call her his girlfriend to anyone who asked. 

Yet it was more than obvious Clarke didn’t think about him like that at all. If anything, he’s more than certain now that she hardly harbors any warm feelings towards him at all. After he told her, she shut down completely, approached it almost clinically. 

Three days, and she’s in a relationship with the dude who’s been thirsting after her for years and years. A few of which he was still together with Raven, their other friend. He’s a sleazebag, but that’s not even the point. Two days, and they were Facebook official. 

Bellamy texted her, simple, _Congrats on the boyfriend._ _  
  
_

To which she shot back almost immediately, as if practiced, _Trying to improve my relationship skills. No more sneaking around ;)_

It wasn’t fair, and she knew it. He never wanted her to come out in the open with a incel asshole like Finn, he wanted her to stop hiding _him._ He wasn’t a very proud person, afraid she might be ashamed of him -- it wasn’t about that at all. The fact of the matter was when they started whatever was going on between them, he thought he could handle the whole ‘no feelings’ thing. 

He’d done it multiple times before without running into any problems. Most recently, him and Harper spent a good two months having fun together occasionally before she met Monty. They called it quits and he wasn’t even hurt, ego barely bruised. He was _happy_ for her, happy for his friend. 

But with Clarke, all he sees is red, all he feels is hot-white anger coursing through his veins. The difference is, they’re not _just_ friends. He shouldn’t have gotten greedy. He should’ve just accepted someone like Clarke -- brilliant, exceptional, beautiful _Clarke_ \-- would never have feelings for him. He should’ve taken whatever she wanted to give him for as long as she wanted to. He fucked up, and now he’s suffering the consequences. 

“Finn, seriously,” her voice boosts through the theatre halls again, pulling him back to the present. Bellamy’s nostrils flare as he watches the goofy grin on Finn’s face as his hand moves down her side to squeeze her ass. He’s clenching his jaw so tightly he’s afraid it might snap. Clarke pushes her boyfriend’s hand away, stifling a smirk, “Stop it.”

Finn leans into her, one hand curling into her wavy hair, muttering something into her ear that makes her laugh. Again. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to him right now, considering he’s not the cause of it. 

“Sickening,” Raven mutters under her breath, queing up beside him in line to pay for her popcorn. Exes solidarity and all. Except no one really knows he is Clarke’s ex and he hardly thinks she considers him as one. Mostly, he’s suffering in silence. 

Shaw swings his arm around her shoulder, as he comes up to the two of them with two bottles of coke lodged under his other arm. Dryly, he notes, “This sets back our plan at least two weeks.”

Finally tearing his eyes off Finn’s hand on Clarke’s hip and the homicidal thoughts the movements of his fingers spur, Bellamy wonders, probably a little too heatedly, “Plan?”

Raven doesn’t notice his tone luckily, and just ends up rolling her eyes. “Yeah, I know it’s technically my fault Finn’s even part of our group dynamic but I cannot listen to another one of his self-righteous straw-free pleas again when he drives a Toyota Sequoia.” She sighs, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her free hand. “We were going to let him slowly and quietly fade off into oblivion. You know, people growing apart and all.” Her narrowed eyes flick back over to Clarke and her new boyfriend. “Now thanks to Griffin we’re required to start inviting him to things again.”

Just his fucking luck. 

Monty and Harper queue up behind them with Jasper in tow and the topic swiftly changes to the name of a hypothetical eleventh movie in the Fast and the Furious installment. Bellamy promises himself to stop torturing himself by stealing glances at Clarke for the rest of the night. It’s fucking pathetic and he’s done being pathetic. 

The movie is horrible. He knows fast cars and explosions are supposed to be every guy’s and Reyes’ wet dream, but all he can focus on is the fact somehow he ended up beside Clarke and the sound of Finn’s tongue in her mouth the entire time. Seriously, they don’t come up for air _once_ the entire 45 minutes. It’s obscene, like the way he has to dig his nails into his thighs the whole time to remind himself not to drag Finn off her and take him outside. It’s not his place. 

Taking mercy on himself, he announces he’s going to the bathroom during the ten minute intermission, barely sparing Clarke and Finn a glance as he maneuvers his way past the knees of his other friends. 

“Bring me some skittles!” Jasper calls after him loudly, just in time before the doors swing shut behind him. 

When he finishes taking a piss, he splashes some cold water in his face to calm the rage bubbling inside of him. He’s so irrationally angry, he feels like punching inanimate objects just for the hell of it. Just to feel a little pain, ground him, reminding him of the fact Finn isn’t taking anything that’s his just because he wants her to be. 

Shouldering open the bathroom door once he’s built up enough courage to go back, his eyes land on Clarke, thumbnail lodged in between her teeth, engrossed in her phone. 

His gaze drops down to her exposed legs, following the creamy-looking expanse of her skin up quickly to reach more _appropriate_ body parts. It’s been days, and he misses touching her soft skin, holding her in his arms, her smell surrounding him -- even if it was all pretend. Clarke finally looks up from her phone, face lighting up at the sight of him. She kicks off the wall across from him to follow him back to the theater, pulling a small red box from her jean jacket’s pocket, showing it to him. “I handled it.”

He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his pants to keep them from accidentally reaching out. It’s like he’s out of control, and the only thing from pressing her against a wall is societal norms and the fact she doesn’t want him to anymore. He avoids all eye contact, considering his narrowed gaze might give away he’s about to jump out of his skin. 

“I could’ve handled it myself,” he mutters, not being able to keep the contempt out of his voice. What, she thinks he can’t afford Skittles now? Besides, Jasper likes the sour ones. 

“What’s up with you?” Clarke scowls, sounding half offended as she knocks her elbow into his to catch his attention. “You’ve been brooding all night. I thought you once told me movies with cars deserved their own category at the Oscars?”

His fingers flex at his side briefly. He can’t do this. He can’t joke around and bring up past memories so casually and pretend they’re still friends when he knows what she sounds like when she comes. When he wants nothing more to hear it again, everyday, forever. Fucking feelings, for her, consuming his every atom, making him think crazy thoughts. He can’t do it, but he’s going to have to if he wants to keep her in his life. He pulls himself together, lets out a small, bitter huff of laughter. “Hardly thought you’d notice.”

Clarke tugs on his sleeve to keep him from going into the theater and effectively ending their conversation. They come to a halt, his eyes still trained on his shoes as her forehead crinkles, genuine confusion in her voice. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He could say she’s too busy sucking face with Finn to pay attention to him, but that would give away that all he’s been doing is paying attention to _her_. He could admit he regrets everything he said to her three days ago, that he desperately wants to take it back and make things like they were before. He could fake it, make a joke out of it and make up some other excuse as to why he’s so moody. 

Instead, Bellamy lowers his voice, eyes flicking over their surroundings as if he knows it’s a fucked up thing to say and no one else should overhear (lest they think he’s a insanely possessive asshole), as he blurts out, “He has no right to touch you like that.”

Clarke straightens her shoulders as she crosses her arms over her chest, considering him, searching his face studiously. Something a lot like excitement flashes across her face so brief, he thinks he might have imagined it. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, but he figures the look on his face in combination with the tension evident in his every muscle and balled fists at his sides says more than enough. Yeah. He’s so fucking jealous he might march in there and deck Finn in the nose. _Mine_ , is all he thinks whenever he sees anyone touching Clarke. But she doesn’t want to be his, and he can’t humiliate himself further by admitting it out loud. 

A small smirk spreads across her lips slowly, his traitorous heart speeding up. There’s a beat and then she takes a step closer, cupping his chin briefly so she can run her thumb over his bottom lip. “ _Good_.”

An employee swings open the door beside them, signaling the intermission is almost over and Clarke’s hand drops back down as she falls back a step. She pops a skittle in her mouth slowly, holding his gaze. Her midnight-sky blue eyes are insistent, dark, swirling with that special kind of defiance he loves so much about her. Inside, there’s the loud crash of what he figures is another expensive sports car. 

He presses his tongue to the back of his teeth, considering what to even say to that as his mind tries to catch up with the implications of her words, but she’s already brushing past him. As he watches her push her way back into the theatre, everything clicks into place. That whole act she’s pulling with Finn is designed to get under his skin. She _wants_ him to be jealous. It’s not her casual, regular Clarke defiance -- it’s a dare. She wants him to do something about it. 

Fucking _brat._

If anything, from 3 am chocolate-chip cookie ice cream cravings to a fourth orgasm, he’s always given her what she wants. 

During the rest of the movie he finally allows his arm to brush up against hers, even his knee to knock into hers occasionally, but he doesn’t make a _real_ move until after it’s over. He puts up with Finn’s hand on her thigh, smirks to himself when at one point, Clarke moves her legs so it falls off. She glances at him out of the corner of her eye but he pretends not to notice.

He drove over with Raven and Shaw, but makes sure he ends up in the same car as Clarke. It isn’t too far of a stretch considering his apartment is the same way as Harper’s and it’s her car. They’ve squeezed more people into smaller cars. Finn calls shotgun, the absolute dumbfuck, and Monty and Jasper slide into the backseat beside him. 

Clarke stares at him from the other side of the open car door, fiddling with the bottom of her sundress. It’s not like her to get shy all of a sudden. This is what she wanted after all. She’s never one to back down from a challenge.

“You can sit on my lap,” Bellamy offers innocently, patting his thigh. Her eyes flick over to the front of the car, but Finn is too busy fiddling with the radio to notice his girlfriend isn’t even inside of the vehicle yet. 

Finally, she hums in agreement, climbing into the car. He pulls the door shut behind her and she settles her back against the window, legs halfway across his, crossing her arms over her chest like this isn’t exactly what she asked for.

He keeps one hand on the seat behind them, the other politely on top of her knee. Ever so often she squirms a little on top of him, almost like she can’t quite get comfortable. He can feel her buzzing with anticipation, waiting to see if he’ll pull through, but he’s finding the wait quit enjoyable. Her cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, quick little breaths leaving her lips slightly parted, her tongue constantly darting out to wet them. 

He waits until they’ve dropped off Monty and Jasper at their apartment before he strikes. The radio is playing some pop song while Harper hums along politely to Finn’s tirade about global warming and how somehow it’s the fault of snowflake millennials. Clarke -- smart and apparently just as willing as ever -- pretends to be asleep so she doesn’t have to move from his lap. 

He knows he has approximately fifteen minutes until they arrive to Finn’s place. He’s got until then to convince her not to go inside with him and Bellamy knows just how to do it. 

Slowly, one of his hand starts to trail up from her knee closest to his, moving up her thigh. He stifles a grin when he hears her breath hitch quietly as he reaches the hem of her dress, thumb running over the thin material. 

Clarke responds by moving her outer knee a little to the side, giving him more space to work with. He smirks over at her, almost giddy at her eagerness, but her eyes are still firmly closed. She’s fully committed to her ruse about being asleep. and maybe just a tiny bit afraid someone -- Finn, mostly -- will expect her to move off his lap if she isn’t.

He noses her neck briefly, tracing the outline of her panties, feeling a surge of pride at the warmth and dampness he’s met with. He wonders how long she’s been walking around like this, turned on by the thought that everything she did tonight made him jealous, made him want her more. She squirms just slightly, fingers tightening around the fabric of his shirt, clinging on desperately. 

Bellamy cups his hand around her, moving up and down slightly, just to get started. He keeps his eyes trained on the two people in the front seat as he lets his head loll slightly to the side, just enough to take her earlobe between his teeth. Her chest heaves up and down erratically with quick little breaths, a nice flush starting to form there as she swallows tightly. 

He bites on her lobe just as his thumb presses down on her clit over her panties. Her thighs straining under his arm and a sharp inhale of breath letting him know she’s trying hard not to make any noises. He knows this won’t be enough, never will be. He needs to take her home, make her scream. 

His fingertips reach the edge of her underwear, ready to slide under there when her back arches slightly, one of her hands suddenly wrapping tightly around his wrist, effectively halting his movements. Her eyes are lidded, but open when he looks up at her. 

He raises his eyebrows, as if to say, _isn’t this what you wanted? Isn’t this exactly what you’re missing?_ and her grip loosens. He waits, keeping his gaze trained on her face even as her eyes flick over to the front seat. There’s a warning in her eyes, but his hand can feel exactly how wet she is, the warmth radiating off her, exactly how turned on she is by the thought they could get caught by their friends, _her boyfriend,_ at any moment. He knows her, and he knows she likes the danger, the thrill. He knows she wants this.

He waits, lets her figure it out herself, free hand rubbing comforting circles into her lower back as she studies his face. He doesn’t know what she finds there, but her hand falls away completely and her head lolls enough to the side for him to feel her hot breath on his neck. 

Victoriously, Bellamy smirks to himself, finally managing to tug her panties aside enough for him to slide inside her folds, spreading the wetness that’s collected at her entrance. His cock strains painfully against his pants, hard enough by now for her to have noticed, to have felt it press against her ass. 

Smoothly dipping one thick finger into her tight canal, he watches Clarke’s face, watches the sharp inhale through her nose, the tension in her shoulders. He can never get enough of the way she reacts to him, to having him inside of her. He moves his finger, pumping in and out of her a few times. Her jaw flexes. She wants _more_. 

Adding another finger, he curves them slightly as he moves them in and out, pad of his thumb hitting her clit every time he does so. Her lips part, a small crinkle in her brow, and _God_ , what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss her right now, to fuck his tongue into her mouth, show Finn how it’s really done. Suck a mark into her neck, show the whole world she’s his. 

Harper says something, to _him_ , he realizes belatedly, and it takes him a second to register it, another to form rational thoughts that don’t have anything to do with how badly he wants Clarke to fall apart in his arms. “Hmm?” He wonders loudly, eyebrows shooting up as if pulled from a daze. 

“Is she asleep?” Harper repeats over the music, conversationally, just as she makes a left, obviously taking advantage of the lull in her conversation with Finn to get out of it completely. 

  
His hand is completely stilled, meeting his friend’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Bellamy’s pretty sure it’s dark enough in the car for his hand to be hidden, but he enjoys the tension in Clarke’s body regardless. He grins, casual, even though his heart is pounding loudly against his ribcage. “Out cold.”

She smiles back, all pearly white teeth, completely oblivious to the fact his fingers are inside of Clarke right now. “Always admired Griff’s ability to fall asleep anywhere, anytime.”

“Comes with the territory of being a nurse I guess.”

Harper lets out a small laugh, then gets sucked back in by Finn before even being able to form a reply, segueing to their healthcare system and how he thinks they should organize it. Bellamy loses him after the third word, too preoccupied with something else entirely. 

Slowly, he begins to drive his fingers back in and out of her, crooking them just enough to hit that special spot inside of her that usually drives her crazy. They’re a block or two away from Finn’s place, running out of time. 

“Clarke,” he whispers hoarsely against her ear, keeping his eyes fixed on the mirror to make sure nobody is watching. He knows she’s close. “Baby. Come for me.”

All at once -- all the encouragement she needed apparently-- her entire body goes stiff, her pleasure peaking. She strains not to arch her back too much, body shuddering slightly as her teeth dig into her bottom lip with what must be a painful attempt at trying to make from any noise. Bellamy continues his movements, drawing the orgasm out of her, his hand riding the aftershocks with her. 

When she finally relaxes, he withdraws his hand, patting her damp panties as if to compliment her for being good before wiping them on his jeans. He wants to taste her more than anything, but the car pulls to a stop in front of Finn’s apartment building way too soon.

“Clarke,” Finn opens the door, thanking their other friend for the ride before, as an afterthought, he reaches between the two front seats and jostles Clarke’s knee, “Are you coming?” 

Bellamy can’t keep the smirk off his face. Little did he know, she just did. He would feel guilty, if not for the fact Finn is a piece of shit who cheated on Raven himself. He doesn’t deserve Clarke. He bets he can’t even make her come, not like he just did.

“I’m tired,” Clarke dismisses him easily, blinking her eyes open as if she just woke up. She stretches, wiggling her ass in Bellamy’s lap a little like she doesn’t _exactly_ know what that does to him and his rock-hard cock begging to be released from the constraints of his pants. “I’ll just text you tomorrow.”

He frowns. “You said you’d stay over.”

She doesn’t back down, shrugging half-heartedly. “I changed my mind.”

Finn looks reluctant, but then finally decides against arguing with her around their friends and nods, slamming the door shut behind him. She sighs, not quite tired but more as if she’s relieved, leaning her face back against Bellamy’s shoulder. 

Harper doesn’t say anything as Clarke gets out with him, even if the look on her face is questionable at most. She honks as she drives off and Bellamy has Clarke pressed against the back of the elevator within moments. 

“It better be a break-up text,” Bellamy practically growls against her lips, her fingernails digging into his shoulders as their mouths meet again, almost like they can’t be apart for too long. 

“Why?” She smirks wickedly, thumb moving over his cheek as she pecks his mouth in between sentences, “Aren’t we having fun?”

It’s not a game. Not to him. He needs to make sure she knows this, too. He dodges her mouth, tilting his head back enough to look at her, serious. “Clarke --”

“I know.” She rolls her eyes, her lips red from kissing. “He’s a douchebag. You don’t want Finn to be my boyfriend.” 

“It’s not that,” he snaps, half-heartedly, eyes raking her face. It’s definitely also that, but mostly, “ _I_ want to be your boyfriend.” He doesn’t know exactly what comes over him, just knows he can’t go through that again. Can’t watch anyone else touch her, kiss her, make her laugh. “I want you to be mine, only mine.”

  
A grin splits across her face, her fingers playing with the short curls at the nape of his neck as she leans in for a lazy, languid kiss, licking into each other’s mouth. When they finally pull apart, she makes his heart squeeze painfully _happy_ in his chest as she breathes, “I already am.”


End file.
